


Long Awaited Reunions Part 2

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Comfort/Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Platonic Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Platonic Relationships, Post-Prison, Recovery, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Son brings Sad Dad tea, post-prison Idan, referenced psychosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: Companion piece to Long Awaited Reunions by CaptainDeryn, the creator of Terrance, Idan's padawan.  This is her fic about Idan and Terrance reuniting, told from Idan's point of view.  It's been seven years since they've last seen each other, and Idan worried Terrance won't be able to recognize him.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Long Awaited Reunions Part 2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainDeryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDeryn/gifts).



> Obviously, go read Long Awaited Reunions by CaptainDeryn before reading this, it'll make more sense <3

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Petra asked softly as she sat on the bed beside him, a hand pressing against his back, “You didn’t have a good night last night.”

Idan glanced at the pillow and blanket that still laid on the floor. He never had good nights anymore, “I’m fine.”

Far from it. But, there was no use in telling her that sometimes the walls seemed to close in around him. Even when he was standing in the middle of the woods—walls would appear, ripping through his already threadbare psyche. The floor was hard, and the pain it would bring to his bones was perfect. Perfect for distracting him from the fact the world was melting in around him like he was the ass-end of a candlewick.

“You’re lucky Terrance can’t see you,” she signed, soft fingers taking his chin into her hand and turning him to her. Her other hand had left his back so she could rub her thumb across the bruise-like markings still around his eyes, “He’d be even more worried.”

“It’s getting better,” he leaned into her hand.

A soft but sad smile pulled slowly at her lips, “I know you think I’m too worried about you. Maybe I am. I’m just concerned if I take my sights off you, you’ll disappear again.

It was the same idea that struck terror into Idan’s heart, a thought that kept him from closing his eyes each night.

“You guys aren’t being weird in here, right?” Brevom thundered as the door slid open, and he took two cautious steps inside, his eyes shut tight.

Petra patted Idan’s cheek as she sighed, “Brevom, _sweetheart..._ if you’re worried about walking in on something, try knocking first.”

“Oh, gross, you are doing weird stuff,” Brevom groaned like an overgrown man-child, “Should I come back?”

“No. You can open your eyes,” Idan pushed his wobbly self-image down as he forced a wry chuckle, “We’re done kissing—at least until you leave again.”

“Stop it,” Petra flashed a smile and swatted at his arm with the end of her knitted shawl, “Did you need something, Brev?”

“Aramys told me our new brother is arriving!” Brevom grinned widely, throwing himself stomach first onto the opposite side of his parents’ bed. The bed bounced several times, almost with enough force to send Idan, the lightest of the three of them, off the bed.

“Careful, you big baffoon,” Petra smacked her son on the backside, “You’ll break your father.”

The shame he suddenly felt was unbearable; his fragility was apparent, and he hated it. He looked as breakable on the outside as he felt—at least before he was able to hide the inside stuff. But now the inside stuff showed itself in bruises and scars. He wasn’t the person they remembered, and it pained him that he couldn’t be that person for them now.

“Papa?” Brevom said worriedly, “You okay?”

“We should get down there, he’s probably already in the hangar,” Idan said, turning in a panicked rush toward the door, but stopped, turning back around. He kept his eyes on the floor, a little too overwhelmed by everything, “I don’t want to be late, I don’t like being late.”

“Okay,” Petra said gently, rising from the bed, “We’ll leave right now.”

She slowly reached out, tucking her arm around his. Idan pulled back for a moment, returning from the fog of his rattled mind to see her there. Blue eyes smiling up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Brevom began, sitting up, “I didn’t—“

“Its fine, Brev; I’ll talk to you later,” Petra said, keeping eye contact with her husband and her voice steady and calm, “Idan, are you ready?”

“I—“ Idan chewed on his lip, peeling off a corner with his teeth, and Petra saw a dot of crimson appear, “Yes.”

The hangar was practically empty, thank the stars. The less noise, the better. It’d barely been a week since his release, he still had a hard time getting used to things happening around him, of people being around him. Isolation had become so routine, he couldn’t imagine himself ever being able to stand life going on around him so loudly—so freely. It felt like yesterday he’d been in and out of hangars, Terrance at his heels grumbling about being dragged all over the galaxy—even though they both knew right below the surface of his cranky protective exterior--he loved it. 

Petra led him by the arm to a tucked-away corner behind a wall of shipping crates, out of view and relatively private, “I think this’ll do.”

“It’s perfect,” Idan said as he took a breath so deep, his ribs ached. He was swimming in the sweater he’d thrown on—the last time he’d worn it seventeen years ago, it’d fit him fine. Petra had made it herself, a gift for him on his thirty-first birthday. It was the thickest item of clothing he had. Though he didn’t have much except for what the prison gave him on release, what Emeldir had let him borrow, and what Petra had managed to save from Lady Vemora’s. The hope was that the thick woven yarn would hide his skeletal like frame from Terrance, that any embrace they might share wouldn’t be ruined by him being emaciated. He hated the way he felt under his own touch and couldn’t only imagine a similar disgust from those who touched him. For as much as he wanted Petra to hold him, he couldn’t bear the idea of her being disgusted by him.

“Wait here, I’ll go get him,” Petra said softly. She didn’t move but kept looking up at him. Between her finger and thumb, she plucked the curl that was hanging across Idan’s forehead, tucking it behind another that swept to the side, “That’s better.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back, don’t—“ she took a breath, “Don’t go anywhere.”

Idan shook his head as she approached Terrance’s ship. He had felt his Padawan’s presence the moment he had approached Odessen. Though Idan’s connection to the force wasn’t the most reliable things these days. It often felt more like a limb that’d lost its blood flow, static-filled fingertips unable to do what they once could, unable to grasp the simplest of objects. Some days were worse than others, though today seemed to be alright. The fact he was able to sense Terrance before he’d even landed was an improvement. It’d taken him the last week since his arrival just to be able to detect Aramys or Brevom across the base.

“He’s right over here,” he heard Petra say softly, her shadow and someone else’s coming around the stack of crates.

“Terrance? Is that you?” Idan stopped his pacing as both Petra, and his old Padawan stood in front of him. 

“Master?” his Padawan’s voice was shaky but deeper than he remembered.

Petra let go of Terrance’s arm, taking the box from him as his fingers loosening without his expression changing. She put it on the crates beside him took a few steps back.

And Idan found himself throwing himself against Terrance in an embrace neither of them expected. He felt Terrance’s confusion; he could only imagine what he felt like through the force, and through his own touch as the Miraluka Padawan turned Jedi hugged him in return, loosening his grip some.

It suddenly felt like Terrance had kicked down the doors to their walled-off bond, the kind that formed between a master and Padawan who had come to see each other as father and son—the surrogate family they both needed in a moment when everything seemed terrible.

Everything seemed terrible again, of course. For Idan. He felt Terrance shutter, a gasp escaping him as he pulled Idan closer, hiccupping with a sob as he twisted his fingers more in-depth into the old knitted sweater.

“Master Lumielle?” Terrance said meekly, voice quaking with an unsteady breath.

If Idan’s heart had been glass, it would have shattered for the second time in the past hour. Fragments of glass would have been broken down into microscopic granules beneath the galaxy’s unyielding hammer. Could Terrance not even recognize him? 

“It’s me,” Idan said, rubbing his back in a circular pattern—the same as he would whenever one of his children were upset. Slow and gentle, despite the tears welling in his eyes and the shaking breathes he fought to control.

“They tried to tell me you were dead,” he said.

The hammer had struck once again, now ripping the atoms of the glass apart and tearing through him. A hole had formed in the middle of his chest. Everyone had been told he was dead. The worst thing about it was that he still wished sometimes that he had been killed—either on the day the Avarice was boarded like Petra believed or in prison as Terrance had been told. Moments like this made it difficult to deal with the heaviness of being alive under his own circumstances.

“I’m so sorry, Terrance,” Idan’s voice shook and broke as he rolled the last ‘r’ in his name. He buried his face into the shoulders of Terrance’s robes, gripping his old Padawan—his son—so tightly that it almost felt like he was relying on Terrance to stay standing. His breath hitched as he tried, a failed, to keep his breathing controlled. Thankfully he’d felt Petra walk away, giving them a moment. She wouldn’t see this.

“I didn’t believe them. I kept looking.”

Damn it, of course, he did. Idan knew he would have done the same had their roles been reversed; he wouldn’t have slept until he either had proof or Terrance, alive, back by his side.

“I know you did,” he said, pulling out of their embrace slowly and put his hands on his shoulders. The hug had lasted a little too long for his usual taste, but it’d been necessary. It would always be necessary for Terrance—for anyone he’d missed over the past seven years, anyone he thought he’d never see again. Eventual personal discomfort be damned, he’d made a conscious decision to treat each embrace like it could be his last, “I’m just glad to see you here now. You’ve grown out of the gangly Knight I left behind.”

Terrance’s shoulders relaxed under Idan’s thin hands, and he scoffed, “I don’t think so. I try to be, but—“

Screw it, Idan thought as he pulled Terrance into another hug. The kid still needed reassurance, and Idan was damned well going to give it to him, “You _are._ ”

Terrance melted against him, deflating almost.

“I have something for you,” he said quietly against the material of Idan’s sweater before stepping back.

Terrance turned, searching with his hands for the box that Petra had managed to grab from him. Before Idan could offer verbal assistance, Terrance’s shins ran into a crate, and his hands fell on the box he’d arrived with.

“I don’t remember how it’s organized, but I’ve been finding teas that I think you’d like. From all the little bazaars and markets I’ve been to—ah—“ he stopped, mouth closing in an unsure frown.

The magic word had already been said. Tea. The tea on base was awful, commercial massively produced tea bags that had no flavor whatsoever. He’d already complained to Aramys, who told him to take the matter up with Hylo. He hadn’t found the energy to do so yet, but now—he swiped the box from Terrance’s arms before the young man could change his mind—he might not have to.

He knelt to the floor, the box was surprisingly weighty, and his weakened arms couldn’t lift it long. Unlatching it, he was met with a strange mix of aromatic teas, fighting for dominance in the air around him. It was a treasure chest if he’d ever seen one. Jars of loose leaf teas, boxes, sachets, even little tins. From everywhere, even places Idan had never heard of.

“Oh, Terrance,” tears of joy replaced the heartbroken ones as a low hearty laugh escaped him, and he threw a hand across his heart, “Thank you—the tea here is simply horrible!”

“That’s not the only thing I have for you!” Terrance said quickly, “I’ll be right back.”

Idan didn’t have the chance to respond before Terrance had turned and taken off back toward his ship. Petra appeared not a second later.

“Where’d he go?” she asked.

“He said he had something else for me,” Idan said, still rummaging through the box. He lifted a jar of white tea with dried fruit from Alderaan to his nose, sniffing in deeply and reveling in the floral and fruity scent, “Look at all this—He collected tea for me while you were all looking for me.”

“He told me about it, but—“ Petra peered into the box, “That’s quite a bit more than I expected. At least you won’t have to speak to Hylo now,” she smiled knowingly, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I think so,” Idan nodded, “Better now, surely.”

“Oh, it’s a cat,” Petra said suddenly, watching Terrance approach.

“Petunia?” Idan leaped to his feet.

“ _Who?”_ Petra’s face scrunched in confusion.

He walked out from behind the crates to see their old cat in Terrance’s arms, “Oh, Petunia!”

The cat was vibrating with an expectant purr before Idan had even scooped the mildly pudgy cat from Terrance’s arms and into his own, and he buried his nose into her fur, she smelled the same as he remembered; like those fish-flavored cat treats. It was good to know that in his absence, Terrance spoiled her just as much as he had.

“I’ve missed you so much, you lovely girl. Have you been good? Hm? Best behavior?”

Terrance smiled, “She’s been nothing but an angel these past few years. I’ve tried to keep her well.”

Her purring was so deep, it rattled the bones in his arms. But in a good way, a way that reminded him that he was here—existing—in the same space as his wife and children—unofficially adopted or otherwise. A category Terrance fell into seamlessly, whether he knew it or not.

“You did a great job,” Idan mumbled against Petunia’s fur, unsure if he’d been heard or if the bright blonde coat had muffled him too much.

“I want you to keep her.”

Idan’s head shot up in surprise, but Terrance’s warm smile didn’t falter.

“She belongs with you,” he said.

“I can’t… I don’t—“ Idan inhaled, but felt a weight lift from his overburdened shoulders, “Thank you.”

“Petunia— _Spooky_ belongs here.”

“You still insist that she’s Spooky, hm?” Idan chuckled softly, smiling down at the cat as she looked up at him with giant blue eyes.

“Always.”

“How’s it going over here?” Petra said brightly as she stood beside Idan, but Idan was too busy with his face in the cat’s fur again to answer, “Glad to hear it… Idan, do you think maybe it’s time for a break?”

“I get to keep the cat,” Idan said softly, “Did you meet her already?”

“Only once,” Petra nodded, allowing Petunia to sniff her hand, “Hello, darling.”

“You’ll still be here later?” Idan looked up to Terrance, a pang of worry in his stomach. They hadn’t precisely scheduled how long he’d stay on Odessen—maybe he had an important matter to get back to.

Terrance nodded, “I’m staying at least a few days to refuel; of course, the Council wants me to gather information,” Terrance grumbled.

He always had the same cranky attitude when discussing official Jedi business. At least that hadn’t changed.

Terrance reached out and gave Idan’s shoulder a soft squeeze, “And… I want to catch up. Please.”

Idan took the hand that wasn’t supporting Petunia and put it over his old Padawan’s hand, “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
